My Secret Life As A Superhero
by alicerosemalfoy
Summary: Follow Blaise through his life as Hogwart's Secret Superhero.
1. Of Comics And Cupids

**AN: Just a really random story that I wrote for English class. Oh well, it was fun :D **

**Disclaimer: I'm only going to say this once:_ Obviously_ I don't own anything, blah, blah, blah...**

**Hope you like it guys :) and I'll try to update my other stories as fast as possible too, but it's difficult with school constantly getting in my way, you know. But I'll try. Promise. :)  
**

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**My Secret Life As A Superhero**

**Chapter 1**

**Of Comics and Cupids**

I don't think you know who I am, though everyone at my school knows me. Obviously. Because I'm Blaise. Blaise Zabini. Gloriously dashing. Glamorous bad boy. Astronomically popular, and I'm pretty much every girl's lusty fantasy. Yup, that's me.

-S-

I think Draco's seriously thinking about viciously ripping my (beautiful) eyes out of their sockets and crushing them to mush in his fists.

I can tell.

Because I'm his best friend and I know the signs. Such as scarring our table with burn marks, as he's kindly demonstrating next to me right now. I can't help but smirk, I know I probably deserve his wrath. Though secretly I think he may have a dramatic case of anger management issues. He's just mad because I made him do this elective class with me, for extra credit at the end of the year. I don't think his problem lies in the prospect of extra credit (because he needs it if he wants to beat that Granger girl), it's the actual subject: Muggle Studies. Delving into the primitive minds and historically unimportant evolution of non-magical folk.

It's a total doss. An easy pass.

And Draco hates Muggles, hence, he hates me for forcing him to study them. In detail. Oh the horror. I think I can see even the fair hair on his arms shudder.

Despite his aversion to it, I quite like the subject to be honest with you. Who knew that Muggles could be so ingenious, so oblivious and really, so bloody hilarious? I mean, just last week we were studying these funny little books called Comics, with pictures that don't move an inch (imagine that!).

Pansy's darting daggers at me from across the room. We had a little, minor disagreement this morning, which we were going to discuss with Professor Burbage during class; but seeing as she's late once again, Pansy's getting more and more agitated. Hence those nasty looks I'm receiving. Oh, scratch that last bit. The Professor just trudged in the door, her robes hanging off her shoulders in the most unfashionable way imaginable, and her hair looks like a bird pitched up camp in it. I think you get the picture.

Pansy's hand was the first up. "Professor! Professor! Isn't Superman's cape magenta red? Because Blaise said it isn't!"

Right, this means war. "Professor, Superman's cape is not magenta red! It's cherry red, Pansy you're colour blind! Professor, tell her it's cherry red!"

Professor Burbage is turning around to us slowly. Uh-oh. "I have had it with you two!" she bellows, "Can you, for one week just be quiet!"

Pansy's just too thick to let it go. "But Professor",she sighs, "it's obviously magenta red! And Blaise,"she points her quill at me from across the room, "I am not colour blind, and you're acting like a little girl the way you argue about fashion."

I snort, "Pansy, you do realise that you just said something degrading about your own gender. You're ever so clever."

Pansy's head whips around to me, her black bob slicing through the air. "_Actually_, Zabini," she hisses, "if you were really clever, which we all know you're not, you'd have realised that I actually said something degrading about _you_. Not my gender."

"Alright, this is not relevant to class." Professor Burbage cuts in before I can retaliate, "We're moving on."

Behind me the whole class groaned. I think they like the little debates that go on during class; but it might just also be that they like the way the little debates waste 'precious' class time. Either way, they groaned.

"Right, moving on." Burbage leaned back in her chair. "Open your books on page 114. We're studying the Muggle's perception of Greek Mythology." she sighed.

I look at Draco. What? Greek Mythology? But we already learned about Pegasi and Chimaeras in Care of Magical Creatures class.

Draco nods at my open book so I look down to read the title: 'What Are Greek Gods? Yet Another Fictional Delusion Of Muggles.'

"So class, today we're starting with the mere roots of a thing Muggles call religion. How do I even start to explain the Greek Gods?" she huffed, "Well, there's Zeus. He's like, the Minister of Magic; he's the boss. And he likes to hit people with his lightning bolt."

At this Draco sniggers, turns around in his seat and shouts across the room: "Hey Potter! Now you know why you're such a scarhead!"

"Mister Malfoy, turn around and do try to behave yourself whilst in my class please. So, where was I again? Oh, yes. Zeus. Well, he was the God of hospitality, was married to Hera the Goddess of married women, and had countless affairs and children." she took a deep breath, "Today, I think, we'll start with something easy, because I can tell none of you are paying me much attention. How about...Eros, or as you might recognise him: Cupid, the God of pure love."

"Ohhh! Professor is that the naked, chubby baby with wings? He's totally cute!" Pansy, really can't contain herself, can she? Draco's got his head in his hands, probably thinking something like: 'Kill me. Just kill me. Please.'

"Um, sure Pansy. Yes." The face on Professor Burbage is priceless. You should be here to see it. Really, you should. "In popular muggle, and recently wizarding culture too," the Professor continues, eyeing Pansy to see if she'll say something completely ditzy again, "Cupid is frequently shown shooting his bow to inspire romantic love, effectively, making him the icon of Valentine's day. They say he's the reason why people fall in love, or are love struck."

Shame she can't finish this highly stimulating lesson because the bell just went off, but I feel inspired! And by the look on Draco's face, he's thinking the same thing as me. Because even though everyone knows me, they don't know my little secret. And that little secret needs a name, just like Clark Kent needed a name for his little secret. Because, just like Clark, I'm a secret superhero.


	2. Of Doubtful Friends And Superpowers

**My Secret Life As A Superhero**

**Chapter 2**

**Of Doubtful Friends And Superpowers **

_**Later that day...**_

Walking down the corridor from Muggle Studies, there's a thoughtful silence between Draco and myself. We decided not to wait for Pansy, she talks too much; she's a risk to my little secret.

"So," Draco's giving me one of his funny looks, "You really think you're a superhero? Seriously mate? Really? Look, what you do is great and all, and I'm sure you feel like skipping through a field of poppies singing with the birds, but it's not exactly a superpower."

I'm mortally offended. "Excuse me, but what I do _is_ a superpower. And you know it, Drake. You know that this school wouldn't be what it is without me. I'm the reason why everyone walks around with a smile on their face. You know it; don't deny my gift."

At this Draco just rolls his eyes. He's the only one who knows what I do, but doesn't give it the credit it deserves. Ha. One day I'll be the one coming to his rescue, and then we'll see who's the superhero/mega genius here.

Alright, so I can totally picture your puzzled expression right now. Your thinking something along the lines of: 'What the hell is he on about?' or 'Will he just please spit out his little secret! I want to know!' So, being the nice, thoughtful kind of person I am, I'll tell you. But you have to pinky swear not to tell a soul, not even a ghost if you came across one. Because they're chatty at the best of times, believe me.

Well, here goes nothing. My Superpower. Don't laugh, I'm warning you.

I'm a matchmaker.

Hey! I said don't laugh! If you want to hear more, then stop sniggering, or I may be forced to hex your hair off...or something like that. Okay, so there's more to my power than just shooting an arrow like Cupid, it's hard work to say the least. I'm good at reading people; a glance between two people in the hallway can tell me everything about their relationship. They may be with others, but secretly want to be together. They may be in denial of their feelings. They may be insecure, and just need a nudge in the right direction. They may be heartbroken, yet long for the other's affection. There's millions of possibilities, and I've taken it upon myself to solve the ongoing problem of conflicted and confused love.

I know, I'm great. No need to applaud me. Really.

Draco doesn't understand why I keep it a secret, he'd jump at any opportunity to win people's credit. But I don't want that. Well, sometimes I do, I won't lie. It's just that, I'm already such a prominent figure in our school, and even though I'm liked, I highly doubt anybody would appreciate me dabbling with their love life. If you can even call it dabbling. It's more like...manipulating people into scenarios where they confess their undying love of each other. I'm not actually forcing them to do anything. And I make sure that they like each other first, it's not like I go around matching people up randomly. Though, come to think of it, I have been tempted to do so in the past, you know, just to see how that develops.

"Well," I turn to Draco, "at least we can give me a codename now. Cupid. I think it's cool. Sort of innocent, yet sexy."

Draco snorts, dodging a lost looking first year. Poor kid. "Blaise, you can't be serious. Naming yourself after a nude baby is about a far from sexy as it gets."

"Pansy thought it was cute. And I saw the look on your face. You were thinking that it would be a good name too. I saw your face! Saw it!"

There's that look again. Draco thinks I'm a bit of an idiot. Yeah, I know. He's such a nice friend isn't he? Always so kind and supportive, really, who could want more? "Pansy thinking that Cupid is cute is, definitely and without a doubt, not a good thing. And I don't think it would be a good name for you, it's...stupid."

"You're so highly articulate Draco. Stupid, really? You can't think of anything better?" I snigger. Draco' s always been unintentionally funny. He amuses me to no end. One moment he'll be spewing Alchemical equations from the top of his head, and the next, he can't even come up with a word to define the God that is me. It's funny. "And quite frankly, I like my new name. It's sexy, and I don't care what you say. I'm Cupid, the sexy love-maker!" I shimmy my hips.

Draco rolls his eyes and chuckles. "You're an idiot Blaise. You really, really are. Cupid the sexy love-maker; is that you new slogan? That's just wrong, mate. Wrong on so many levels." We both smirk at this. I know it sounds wrong, that's why I said it. But I'll just play along. "Draco!" I exclaim, clutching my chest in a horrified fashion. "You you dirty, dirty boy. Tut tut, mummy wouldn't be too proud to hear that her little Draci-poo has such a filthy little mind."

And it's true, if his mother, Narcissa, ever found out half of what Draco says, does and thinks, she will die of heart attack. No doubt about it. Because, quite frankly, Draco does some pretty bad things. He's a bad boy.

"You need help." Draco shakes his head at me, walking into our next class. "Professional help."

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**AN: Review Guys :)**


	3. Of Yummy Food And Accomplished Missions

**My Secret Life As A Superhero**

**Chapter 3**

**Of Yummy Food And Accomplished Missions**

_**Breakfast...**_

I'm back in the game. Today's the day. I can feel it; love is in the air (or whatever the Muggles say).

People are aware of Cupid but not that he's me, just like everybody knew Superman, but nobody ever realised he was Clark Kent. (Yeah, I nicked the Comics from Professor Burbage's desk and have been studying them diligently.)

Recently my fellow students have actually started writing to Cupid, telling him their stories, asking him for help. I tell you, it makes my job so much easier when I don't have to hunt down my next project. So toady Cupid will release his arrow again (metaphorically, of course. I don't actually go around shooting people with arrows).

Hannah Abbot, a quiet girl in my year, sent me a letter yesterday, stating how she needed help in getting a boy to notice her. The thing is, he's already noticed her, but too much of a coward to actually go up to her and profess his undying love of her. It's ironic really, 'cause he belongs to the brave of heart, he's one of those noble Gryffindors. Minus his noble steed and shining armour.

For once I didn't tell Draco who I'm helping today, because he generally hates anyone who isn't in our House. Yeah, he's mean like that. But I have decided to stick with love, because hate is too heavy a burden to bare, and I'm just too lazy to carry it.

Draco's late for breakfast, as always. Did you know that he spends two hours in our bathroom every single morning? That's even more than Pansy. Maybe we should get him some sort of certificate. No, that'd just make him even more big-headed and vain than he already is.

_**Dinner Time...**_

Mission accomplished! It was a piece of cake. Very, very delicious cake with sprinkles, whipped cream and a cherry on top. No, just kidding. I don't like whipped cream.

I set Hannah and Neville Longbottom (the guy she liked) up this afternoon.

Fair enough, I broke some rules, blamed it on them and they ended up in detention together. But, hey, they got together didn't they? I ditched Draco in the library, where we usually study together, to go check on them. I think they were rather enjoying their detention until I barged in on them snogging over Professor Snape's desk. I claimed to have forgotten my Potion's book, guess it didn't go down too well judging by the filthy looks Longbottom was shooting at me. Oh, if only he knew.

I would also love to see the look on Snape's face if he ever found out what people get up to on his desk. I think he might go into some sort of mental lock-down, with all the crazy things that go with it. Including tearing out his greasy hair.

Hmmm...I wonder what Professor Snape would look like bald?

This Pork Pie is simply scrumptious! I don't know how those House Elves in the kitchens do it, but every night they conjure up one delicious meal after another. They're little geniuses. With big ears. I don't suppose they'd tell me their recipes. I really should look into that.

The flavours are like a firework of the most rare spices, all mashed up into one complex dish of the best food you've ever tasted.

"Blaise!" Draco just chucked a potato at my head. I hope it doesn't leave a bump. My head is too pretty. With him as a friend, I might have to get insurance, he often resorts to violence. "You look like the sugarplum fairy just told you she's resigning because she feels ugly next to you. Man, you really need to stop zoning out like that!"

I turn to look at him. He's nearly as handsome as me. Nearly.

"I've just decided something. I don't feel like waiting for Valentines Day."

"And that wasn't random at all. Now eat your dinner, I have to finish that essay on the rights of Mere-people. It's due tomorrow, and in case you hadn't noticed, it has to be three feet and four inches long, so it'll take me all night."

I choose to ignore that, for I haven't even started my History of Magic homework. I guess I'll just have to skip that class tomorrow, maybe get in some Quidditch practise or pay the kitchens a visit. The House Elves down there treat me like a god; (no pun intended) always prepare that lovely Yorkshire Pudding that I adore so much.

"From this moment on you're my witness, Draco I declare every day as Valentines Day!" I decide to wave my wand about in a big, extravagant flourish, coming close to poking one of Draco's eyes out.

The whole Hall erupts in laughter. Are they finally realising my genius? No, turns out my graceful wand-waving action caused a burst of pink, heart-shaped confetti to explode at the teacher's table. Headmaster Dumbledore is chuckling merrily, picking bits of paper out of his long white beard; trying to amuse Professor McGonagall who's sitting on his right, by sprinkling the little hearts on her tight, grey bun. Somehow, I don't think it's working, she doesn't look too happy with paper bits going soggy in her onion soup.

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**AN: Please let me know what you think :)**


	4. Of Firewhiskey And Drunken Confessions

**AN: This chapter was actually soooo much fun to write :D I hope you like it as much as I do!**

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**My Secret Life As A Superhero**

**Chapter 4**

**Of Firewhiskey And Drunken Confessions**

October thirteenth is my favourite day of the year. (Alright, apart from Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Bonfire Night, Easter and, of course, Valentine's Day!)

It's the anniversary of my birth! Did you get me something ludicrously expensive? No? Now I'm sad. (Just kidding.) I'm seventeen and, with that, a legal adult! Which just means, that I can keep doing all the things I have been doing, but nobody can arrest me for it. It's brilliant. I'm free! Nobody can stop me now! I shall take over the world! Okay, maybe not that, but I'll definitely have a wicked party with Draco. In our room. With booze. Lots and lots of booze.

_**Two hours later...**_

Everything's so colourful. And pretty. Okay, totally didn't mean to think that. I think I've had one bottle too much Firewhiskey. Draco's no better. He's sitting on the floor next to me, leaning against his bedpost, a goofy grin gracing his face. Yeah, he's had too much alcohol too. (Although, I'm not really sure if there's such a thing as too much alcohol.)

I'm lying face down on the floor, licking the wood. I wanted to see if it tastes like liquorice. I think it does.

I just thought of something funny. I let out a sound that's neither a giggle nor a snort. It's something in between. I realised that it only takes one drink to get me drunk; but the problem is that I can never remember if it's the fifteenth or sixteenth! I'm a hilarious old donkey. Donkey? Where did that come from? I'm too beautiful to be a donkey! I'm a stallion; a stud.

"Yo, Cupid!" Draco gives my head a kick with his foot. "I want to play a game! Play with me!"

I want to play a game too, but the floor is so nice and soft. I feel like a butterfly, licking liquorice flavoured grass. "Play with me!" Yet another kick in my head. Alright, alright, I'm heaving my self up.

"Let's play rock, paper, scissors." I suggest, taking a long swig from my Firewhiskey. I like that game. It's easy. My brain is too fluffy, no, fuzzy, to deal with mentally challenging follies.

"That's a baby game." Draco giggles, "We're babies, Blaise-y. Goo-goo!"

"Ga-ga!" I shout back, and we both roar laughing; rolling around on the floor, our bodies a tangle of flailing limbs. Draco punches me in my (incredibly handsome) face, laughing like a maniac, "Stone wins over your face!"

I reach for the whiskey again, my mood is too good to worry about whether he broke my nose.

"A toast to me! Hooray! To me!"

"To you!" Draco snatches the bottle from my grasp, swinging it so that whiskey splatters all over the floor. Now, I suppose, it tastes like liquorice dipped in practically pure alcohol. "And that men's ears should be to the abuse of temperamental women deaf, but not to flattery!" he starts bowing to an invisible audience, muttering thanks.

I grab a new bottle, and open the cap with a clumsy flick of my wand."To being old sacks that can do whatever they fancy!" We grin at each other and clink our drinks.

"We're not old sacks, Blaise! Where's your dignity! We're _elderly_."

"I don't like veggies! Elderly people eat mushy veggies. They're all icky." I pout, eyeing up the floor again, it looks a lot tastier than over-cooked vegetables.

Before I can start licking the dark wood again, Draco bursts out laughing, "Elderly people shouldn't eat healthy food; they need all the preservatives they can get!"

That's funny, really funny. Now I'm biting a pillow (it tastes a little of candy floss), trying to suppress another wave of mirth. "Well," I gasp, "that's great, 'cause firewhiskey is pure alcohol!"

"AND ALCOHOL'S A PRESERVATIVE!" we scream out together, slapping each other's backs.

"You know, Blaise," Draco slurs, once we've more or less calmed down. "My grandmother, she started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. Now she's ninety-seven and we don't know where the hell she is!"

This, again, causes us to be racked by an avalanche of hearty laughter. We're entering the giddy phase of being drunk. This bit's always fun. It's a nice, bubbly feeling when everything you say is absolutely hilarious.

Out of the blue, Draco asks, "What did the witch say upon returning to her ginger house?"

Oh, so now we've moved on to riddles and jokes. I totally suck at this, but Draco's a genius. "I don't know, what did the witch say upon returning to her ginger house?"

A wide grin spreads across his face, "Home sweet home! Get it? 'Cause it' a ginger bread house?"

I giggle, I really feel like eating some ginger bread. Shame it only gets served at Christmas.

Draco raps his knuckles against my skull, "Knock, knock."

Oh, yay! I love knock-knock jokes! They make me laugh. And snort. Not that snorting is something I'm proud of, or anything."Who's there?"

"Ike!" Draco spreads his arms out, falling on his back.

I clap my hands together excitedly, this is so much fun! I feel like skipping though a field, cuddling bunnies and having tea-parties with rainbow coloured unicorns! "Ike, who?"

"Ike n't stop laughing!" That's it. We're guffawing uncontrollably, sloshing our drinks as we wrestle on the liquorice flavoured floor.

Being seventeen sure is fun. Lot and lots of fun. Fun with glitter, sprinkles and all things nice. It's an explosion of niceness!

Draco pulls himself off the (by now sopping wet) floor, arm wrapped around his bedpost, and reaches his other hand out to help me up too. Once I'm up, I stagger around a bit, before leaning, more or less securely, against the bottom of my bed.

"Blaise, my handsome mate, we shall sing you a song! For your birthday." He starts humming a wobbly little tune. My face lights up; oh how I love that song. It is the most awesome song in the history of awesome songs. We made it up the first time we got this drunk, on Draco's thirteenth. It's actually a wonder that we remebered it, we were completely wasted that night.

We stagger together, linking arms as we start to skip around in a circle, singing merrily: "Mary had a little lamb, her father jinxed it dead!" at this point we jump apart and shout: POW! Then we start our little dance again, "Now it goes to school with her, between two hunks of bread!" we drag the last note out. Draco has a fabulous tenor voice, but I've got an even better baritone.

I scramble onto my bed, taking another swig from the bottle I'm still clutching securely in my hand. The Firewhiskey burns as it goes down, and it feels good. Sort of...fiery.

Draco giggles like a girl as he picks up my boxers from the floor and chucks them up to me. Surprisingly, considering the state I'm in, I catch them with my free hand. I'm quite proud of myself. It's an addition to my already astoundingly perfect superpowers accurate hand-eye coordination even when intoxicated. I drop my bottle, it's nearly empty anyway. The last remnants of the scolding liquid trickle out and soak into my silk pyjama bottoms. But I don't care. I've got another ten pairs stowed away somewhere at the bottom of my trunk.

I decide to pull my boxers around my head, letting the elastic snap. I like my boxers. They're white with little red love-hearts. Now, if a teacher decides to crash our party, I'll be at least wearing _something_. That's right. All I'm wearing are the boxers around my head. And I don't care! 'Cause I'm so drunk that I might as well be a dwarf named Samuel who's favourite game is tick-tack-toe.

Draco hops onto his bed, twirling around and chugging down the rest of his drink. "I have to tell you something, Blaise-y!" he practically shouts at me, "I am in love with Hermione Granger! Have been since fourth year! I'M IN LOVE!"

Alright, I won't lie. I totally wasn't expecting that. I mean, I would have been less surprised if he'd told me he's actually a super-sized glittery fairy. But this is great! Draco's my newest project! YAY!

"Draco" I say, leaning forward, wobbling slightly. "I'm in love with Ginny Weasley. Have been since second year! And she will be mine, as Granger will be yours!" We let out a burst of manic laughter, and then I start jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs: I AM CUPID!"

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**AN: DUN DUN DUUUUUN! :D Haha, tell me your thoughts :)**


	5. Of Foolproof Plans And Failing Powers

**My Secret Life As A Superhero**

**Chapter 5**

**Of Foolproof Plans And Failing Powers**

_**Next Afternoon...**_

Alright, so either he's pretending, or my dear best friend has really forgotten what supremely important personal detail he confessed to me whilst highly intoxicated last night. It could of course be, that Draco is under the impression that I, as Cupid, have taken some sort of romance-creation vows to maintain confidentiality in these situations.

Even if he can be an idiot sometimes, and drank more than his share of the firewhiskey, I'm still going to work on his case. In this business, you're not really meant to have private relationships with customers, but as long as they're happy...

Draco's being all quiet and cryptic, his hangovers have always been pretty bad. Normally we manage to smuggle some of that anti-hangover potion out of the hospital wing, but this time we never got the opportunity. "This morning on the loo I had an important revelation" I say turning to him. "So, I was sitting there -"

"Please, Blaise, no details!" he holds his hands over his ears.

"But otherwise it won't make sense!" I pull his hands away, which takes a considerable amount of my strength as Draco is rather powerful when it comes down to it. It's surprising really, how strong he is, he's a fly next to the muscle package that is me.

"I don't want to know, Zabini!"

"Yes you do! It was a pretty big -"

Draco quickens his pace, leaving me a few feet behind. "Blaise! I'm warning you! No details!" he says, not even bothering to look around.

I lengthen my steps to match his, "But, Drake, it's an important revelation! It opened my eyes!"

Draco raises his slender left eyebrow at me "Alright..."

"I know now, that all our eyes are actually closed!"

"That doesn't even make sense..."

"But it does! Even if only for me, Cupid the secret superhero of love!"

_**That Evening...**_

I glance at my new wristwatch and have to suppress a sigh. But Cupid is _never_ frustrated, depressed or in any other way in a negative mood. So, I must never to forget to smile and wave! I look around and am relieved to find nobody had seen how the corners of my mouth twitched into a goofy grin as fast than you can say Quidditch. I've got Project-Draco all set up and ready to execute. I really am a genius.

_**Hermione Granger's Point Of View, Later That Evening...**_

Only with great effort had I managed to calm the little Gryffindor girl with the curly, long blonde hair and brown doe eyes. Since the beginning of the year she'd carried everything around with her. And now, in the past thirty minutes she'd confessed every emotion and troubling thought to me, with tears pouring from her eyes like tea from a kettle: Homesickness, the bullying from older students, homesickness, the pressure of school and more homesickness.

But these were the things I had to listen to day in and day out, since I was made Head Girl. I noted the girl's name so I could report back to Professor McGonagall later, but now I had to hurry. As I'm rushing through the corridors I barely even notice the weight of my ancient copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' dragging down my bag. But seeing as my leather shoulder bag is nearly as old as I am, it suddenly tears at the seams from the weight. I silently curse myself for never getting a new bag, and scramble to pick up my things. I'm in such a hurry that I don't even think to mend the rip with my wand, but instead shove it under my chin on top of my other stuff balanced precariously in my arms. With numerous quills, a stack of parchment rolls and a handful of inkwells, as well as my book and bag, somewhat secure in my grip I continue my rushed pace through the halls, hoping that I won't draw too much attention to myself as I'm already disgracefully late as it is.

_**Blaise's Point Of View, Midnight...**_

Cupid's wings are broken. His arrows shattered. Heart torn to shreds.

I tried. I really did. I thought my plan was fool proof. But I was the fool. I am no genius. The one time when I really needed my powers to work; the one time that it really mattered to me, they failed miserably. It's a crash and burn situation. I should have calculated the problem that shifting times confront.

This is pretty much how it was supposed to go, but didn't: Draco and Hermione were supposed to patrol the corridors together as Head Boy and Girl and so get to know each other better, I had scheduled them like that on purpose. And I was supposed to patrol with Ginny, or that was the plan anyway. Well, Hermione got held up with Head Girl duties and so Draco, who really has no patience, patrolled with the next best prefect he could find: Ginny. So I was left to patrol with Hermione when she finally arrived in a huff and flurry. None of this, not even the change in time schedule, should have made much of a difference. But I didn't count on the chemical imbalance in the brain which causes such a thing called love. So, while I was obediently patrolling with the Granger girl, Draco and Ginny were having a grand old time in some alcove on the other side of the castle.

Great.

Now Draco is in love. With the girl that I've loved for years.

Great.

And he won't shut up about how great and fabulous and mesmerizing she is.

Great.

I don't think I'm going to get any sleep tonight. There's one thing I've learned of this though: A friend in need is a friend to be avoided.

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**AN: Alright, so I would really like to thank my dear friend Paulina for helping me out with this chapter, as I had a really bad case of writers block. She really saved my ass. :D**


	6. Of Falling Leaves And Feeding Mosquitoes

**AN: Last Chapter...last chance to tell me what you think :)**

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**My Secret Life As A Superhero**

**Chapter 6**

**Of Falling Leaves And Feeding Mosquitoes **

It's been three gruelling days.

Every morning at breakfast I am forced to look at them being all happy and lovey-dovey together. It's sickening. And heart breaking. Every kiss they share pulls a strip of flesh from my once happy heart. I feel like a broken man. All numb.

But I try to ignore it. Try to be happy for them. Because, no matter what, Draco will always be my best mate. "Hey, uh, Drake. Sorry, could -" I try to pull his head away from her and towards me. He swats me away, like a pesky house fly. "Drake, could you, um, pass the bread please. Yeah, just -" I try, quite desperately, to get his attention. But those two are now in deep conversation. At least that's better than kissing. "Drake, the bread!" I jab my wand into his leg. That used to _always_ get his attention, but I guess he's focusing on something much more interesting now. Her. _Ginny_. I know _how_ he can love her, she's just so perfect, but I didn't know he _could_ truly love. He has nothing in his heart but blood. Or that's what I thought. Apparently I didn't know him as well as I'd thought.

There is nothing more annoying than two people talking when you're busy interrupting.

Oh well. I didn't really want that delicious smelling, steaming slice of bread anyway.

I get up from the bench and walk out into the grounds. At least we don't have classes today. The air bites my face, but it's strangely pleasant. Fresh.

I stroll to the big oak overlooking the lake, the frosted grass and fallen leaves crunching under my step.

My back slides down the rough, but familiar bark, as I lower myself to the ground. The wind rustles the fiery leaves above me, causing a few to float towards my outstretched hands. I catch one and examine it carefully: the thin veins standing out against the spectrum of reds and yellows, the leaf as thin as the wing of a butterfly.

Autumn is the season of dusk and twilight, just as the throes of love exist in that half-awake, half-dreaming state of magic when the rest of the world gets it's volume turned down. And when at last love smoulders down and dies, its passage ushers in a season of wintry cold and gloom. And yet given the power to avoid winter and dwell forever in summer, life would be deprived of some of its beauty and joy; therefore we choose to open our hearts to love, even knowing that it might hurt.

Autumn is my favourite season. Full of harsh emotions under the cover of beauty. It seems familiar.

A mosquito lands on my arm. It's actually too cold for them, but this one's probably come from the Forbidden Forest, and nothing's quite normal in there. This poor insect has strayed from it's comfort zone; from it's home. And now, it will die in a strange, cold world; all alone with it's friends throwing a party in the forest. And he will die. I pity the mosquito, I guess I recognise something of myself in his position. So, as he wobbles along on my arm, all I say is: "Can I offer you a drink?"

I know that after this cold feeling in the pit of my stomach, someone will warm my heart again. Like my blood warmed the lonesome mosquito. After every winter, no matter how harsh and long, there eventually will come a summer. And until then, and beyond, I will keep the sacrifice of my love that I made for my best friend, locked away. And nobody will be the wiser.

Because, that's what superheroes do. They make sacrifices that nobody will ever know of. But that's fine my me.

I hope you can learn from my choices, for the moral of the story is: If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you even tried.


End file.
